Jump Then Fall

Chapter 10

"Sherlock? Hello?" John let himself in with the key he had received the day before. "Elsa? What are you doing here?" He was surprised to see the ginger asleep on the couch, curled up into a little ball.

Elsa's eyes fluttered open. "Oh my goodness, what time is it?"

"Relax, it's only 8:30"

"8:30!? Mrs. Hudson will be wondering where I am!" She quickly jumped up before she could remember that she was only in her undergarments and a old shirt of Sherlock's. The shirt hung loosely on her frame, causing the sleeves to fall off her shoulders, basically revealing her bra that she was wearing underneath.

"Morning," Sherlock said as he casually stepped out of his room, wearing only a sheet.

John swiveled his head back and forth, examining the current situation he had just walked into.

Elsa widened her eyes, realizing how things might look to poor John Watson. She was barely wearing any clothing, and Sherlock most defiantly wasn't wearing clothes. She reached up and patted her head. Her hair must look frightful, and her lipstick was most likely smeared. Elsa couldn't help but slightly gape.

"It's not what it looks like, John, I swear, ok? Sherlock just let me stay the night because I was locked out of my flat, isn't that right Sherlock?"

Sherlock reached for a teacup and filled it up. The teaset wasn't there last night, and the china seemed familiar. Of course! Mrs. Hudson had brought them tea.

"Correct, Miss Wiggens. I was just being, as you would say, neighborly."

"Um, ok, Sherlock, I already told you this. Just call me Elsa, not Miss Wiggens. It seems too formal..."

"As you wish," he handed Elsa a full teacup. "Would you care for some tea, John?"

John took the cup from Sherlock. "So nothing happened?"

"I truly doubt anything of that sort would happen between Elsa and I. You've known me for about a day, I'm not exactly what you would call social,"

Elsa took a long sip of tea, burning her tongue while doing so. She let out a soft ouch-ish sound and walked to the fridge to get some ice.

"Umm, Elsa, I wouldn't-" too late. She had already opened the ice tray and saw an open jar of frozen eyeballs. A scream escaped her lips.

"What the hell is a jar of eyes doing in the ice box!?" She turned to Sherlock.

"To be honest, I tried to warn you..." he replied matter-of-factly. "If eyes freak you out that much, then you probably don't want to look in the fridge. Or the microwave. Or the oven. Or the pantry."

She gave him a look of complete disbelief. He shrugged back at her.

"Ok, well, I'm here now, and I've brought my personal belongings so I can move in..." John tried breaking the silence.

"Yes, yes, of course. Elsa, help John bring his things in."

"EXCUSE ME? Never in all of my life has anybody been able to tell me what do to, and you, Sherlock Holmes, are not going to break that pattern. Not today, not ever."

Sherlock slowly walked up to Elsa. She got shivers down her spine as each foot step brought him closer to her. He lay his left hand on her shoulder and darkly stared into her eyes. Feeling a bit too close to his frame, she swiped off his arm and walked to the door.

"I believe you can figure out how to help John in some way, Mr. Holmes. If this proves too difficult, I will be downstairs in my flat, getting ready for the day." She quickly turned back before exiting and pecked John on the cheek, trying to prove that nothing had happened over the night, to prove to Sherlock that he was wrong for what she felt was him advancing on her, and to prove to herself that she still preferred John over Sherlock in every possible way.